The Elves succumbed quickly before Robert Killiman.

And, since then, they don't seem to be obsessed with chatter. Several place names were quickly tossed out by these aliens, and they knew the names of these worlds with such familiarity as if they had visited them many times.

Janus was disgusted by this, he knew that the Elves were divided, but he didn't bother to get to the bottom of it.

Finding murderers is something that only judges who believe in justice and law do, and as for the foreigners, they are treated equally by the Third Company Commander - any alien deserves to die.

However, that wasn't the biggest reason why he was standing behind an Ada with his sword now.

"That's it." Naida said in High Gothic, pointing with her right hand to the projection of the star map. "A nameless planet, this is it, Astarte."

It recited the word Astarte in a low voice, as if it were reciting poetry, forcing Janus to frown deeply.

He suppressed the instinct he had acquired from years of fighting that could be called 'hate', and tried to keep his tone flat and unwavering—and he had succeeded in doing so, but at a terrible cost.

At this moment, he seemed to see the people who had died because of the spirit race again.

"You'd better check it." Janus warned. "If you make the slightest mistake, you and your people will die."

Hearing his words, the Eldar turned around. Its robe was lanky and unarmoured, and Janus narrowed his eyes and began to dissect its flesh and bones in public with a kind of war butcher-like gaze, thinking about which direction he would swing his sword to dismember it.

He seemed to inadvertently reveal this intention, and the Elves accepted it all, but did not show any of the emotions that Janus wanted to see.

It didn't even get angry, but bowed slightly obediently.

"It is with this realization in mind that we have come." Ida said gently and forcefully in a quaint tone. "Believe it or not, Your Excellency, I personally believe that this event will be the beginning of a renewed friendship between humans and spirits."

It barely sounded like a spirit

Janus sneered and nodded, not responding to its wishful thinking.

There are many people like him in the human race, who have lost many important things, and even everything, because of the alien - and the hatred will not end on its own, and these restless souls will not find any peace until the moment of revenge on their hands is stained with blood.

"Don't you believe me, Your Excellency, Company Commander?" The Elves asked again.

"Don't take an inch." Janus said that he was still holding his sword.

The Spirit Clan slowly rolled his eyes and glanced at his right hand, his expression still unchanged, just shaking his head slightly.

"I am not one of those people who do not know what to do, and I confess to you, that we are indeed a divided race. Some of us have chosen to run away from a certain fear, to sink into sin, to become insensitive. ”

"They dedicated their long lives wholeheartedly to a cruel, dark, and evil path. There is no end to this road, they are hopeless, and we are different. Please believe in this, we are different. ”

"Your words are just lies and poison to me." Janus said coldly. "The only reason I tolerate the rhetoric of standing in front of me is only because my primordial body allows it."

"If it hadn't been for that, you would have been in a different place the first moment I saw you and your kindred. I don't care where you come from or what creed you follow, I don't care about these things. So, do what you have to do, alien dregs. ”

The Spirit Clan nodded obediently, no disappointment on his face. It bowed again, turned away, and began to move the star map with its slender fingers.

The crew, who had already been informed, seemed to inadvertently cast a concerned gaze here, and an alien boarded the main bridge of the Glory of Macurag, and even used the Contemplative to mark the star

Even with a company commander supervising it, this matter seems a bit appalling.

Janus knew all about them, and he could even tell which ones were filled with curiosity and disgust, and which were just as hateful as he was.

However, now is not the time to expel or kill. Janus didn't understand why his Primordial had chosen to work with the Elves at this time, but he wouldn't argue with Robert Killiman's suggestions.

He is self-aware of himself, and he has already seen the foresight of the original.

Robert Killiman, of course, was disappointed.

He stood inside his office, took off his uniform, waved his arms, and let out a heavy sigh to the other with a gloomy expression.

"I called him here to see his discontent, or at least to hear a little bit of his discontent! As a result, he behaved exactly like a wooden man or a puppet! My puppet! O sun of Makurag."

"If you have any grievances against him, or with them, my lord, perhaps you should be more blunt." Carlil said without looking up.

He sat peacefully across from his desk, facing Kiliman's seat, looking down at a book of old poems from the Old Terra period. His words sent a cold snort from the primordials who were walking around on the wooden floor and crushing them.

"How dare I? My company commanders all consider themselves my most loyal sons, and if I do this, will I not refute their good intentions? What do you think, Master Carlil? ”

Carlil replied to him in a serious manner.

"I think, Lord Robert, this matter needs to be discussed at another moment. Now, the most important thing we need to think about should be—"

He stood up, put the poem on the table, and tapped his finger on its leather cover. The dull sound of tuk tuk replaced the heavy footsteps of the original body, and began to echo in the study.

Killiman watched him stride over to his bookcase, returning the book of poems under the portrait of King Connaught and the Emperor.

"—what is it?" Kiliman asked.

"When to kill." Carlil said. "And in what way to carry out the killing."

The Lord of Maculag frowned, and he read from this sentence with great sensitivity something that he did not really want to see, so he asked bluntly, his face full of suspicion.

"Don't tell me, you want to"

"Personally in battle."

Carlil looked back and grinned at him, "Yes, that's what you think, Robert." I'm going to war, too. ”

Killiman grimaced, looking at his shadow.

"He's not here now."

"And when is he there?" Kiriman asked with a frown. "I think I need to report to him about how you've been unusually active lately."

Carlil smiled and replied in a flirtatious tone, "Conrad won't be here anytime soon, Robert, he has some other things to attend to." ”

"What's the matter?"

"War." Carlil spat out the word, and the way he pronounced it was so calming that it seemed to him that the powerful, blood-soaked word and death could be equated with a book or sleep.

But Kiriman knows that this is not the case.

He could read sadness and remorse in the dark eyes of Carlil Lohals, two emotions that made him choose silence—empathy was a false word, but it was real at least for a moment.

Kiriman understands how he feels, and for 10,000 years, people have sung the praises of his exploits, but only he knows what sacrifices are hidden behind these so-called honors.

Moreover, not his sacrifice.

He especially hated it.

He is the father of many people – the father of genes – and his words are the rules of the world for those people. They obeyed Him with all their hearts, obeying His every word with all their hearts.

They didn't feel anything wrong with it, only Killiman knew the danger.

But he couldn't help it, and as time went by, the old men of the old legion died one after another, and there were fewer and fewer people who could communicate with him on an equal footing and even admonish him when he was angry.

By now, such people have completely ceased to exist.

Now, it's the time of warbands, and the new Ultramarines are full of honor, roaring and swinging their swords over the shoulders of their predecessors, trying to defend these medals and create a new honor of their own.

They grew up listening to the legend of Robert Killiman, and everyone knows his story well. They knew that he had fought the swarms near Connaught, and that he had torn apart the skin of Lorga Aurelian and driven him away from the darkness of chaos.

They saw him as a god, a fatherly god, but still a god, and God could not be disobeyed.

They are rational and principled, and will make their own choices in the face of major rights and wrongs. Only not in matters involving him, and the way they treated him made Kiliman often feel terrified in meditation.

What would they do if one day, he was gone?

Killiman closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, without revealing his thoughts.

He knew he didn't need to, and that Carlil was one of the few people in his age who could understand him thoroughly. They have known each other for a long time and have a lot in common in their way of dealing with the world. Moreover, Karil Lohals saw him as a human being.

He saw him as a fallible, anxious, fearful man, not an all-powerful and compassionate god.

Killiman slowly opened his eyes, ending the brief meditation. Not because of anything else, but because the astral array on the study floor was lighting up, and the humming sound it emitted was almost indistinguishable from an earthquake to Killiman's keen perception.

The primordial strode towards him, the gradual blazing light drowning out his countenance, leaving only a pair of eyes brighter than theirs distinctly visible.

Killiman frowned, the astral array had never been at such a high power. In fact, when it was just an idea before it was born, the people responsible for designing it never thought to give it any overload function.

In other words, it's a feature it shouldn't have.

The humming began to intensify, becoming more and more intense, more and more high, until at last it became almost a high-pitched scream that could restore the hearing of the deaf person.

The air trembled, and the alarm in the study began to chirp loudly. The door was slammed open by the victorious army, who rushed into the study, fully armed, silent rage spreading through their armor, the scarlet eyepieces of the Eagle Helmet shining like the light of destruction.

However, none of the expected scenes of attack took place, only Robert Kiliman, who was standing in the light, and his calm voice.

"Who's calling the Glory of Maculag?" He asked majestically.

Carlil's eyes narrowed.

He smelled the smell of blood.

——

"It's me, Primordial." Hectus Calgio said with blood flowing.

He gasped, his armor covered in multiple scars. The depths of the warband's garrison are covered in blood and corpses, and the demonic flesh that has not yet dispersed is gradually turning into aetheric spirits.

The think tanks of the Sons of Coth were radiating psionic energy around the circle to stabilize its existence, and blinding red warning lights flickered at the top of the stone walls and steel, stretching everyone's shadows eerily long.

Piercing howls spread from not far away, mixed with battle cries and the shouts of bombs. The Children of the Night are fighting with them in the depths of the Sons of Coth's extensive garrison against the tide of demons.

They had been fighting for four days, four whole days, the original plan was completely disrupted, and the astral array had lost its original stability under the influence of the Chaos Aether brought by the Demon Gate, and only now that it had barely recovered thanks to the unremitting efforts of the think tanks.

"What happened?" Robert Kiliman's blurred image asked.

"A demonic invasion, the primordial, on an unprecedented scale." Cargio began to report with clarity. "The entire surface of Coos is occupied by them, they are everywhere, they are the demon army of the blood god"

"And led by Kabanha." Yago Sevitaleone reminded in a low voice in the communication channel.

The other end of the communication was filled with the sound of a whistling wind and a strange roar.

"And led by Kabanha." Calgio said.

Robert Killiman's pale blue image fluctuated, and he seemed to say something, but the warlord couldn't hear it. The smell of wet blood wafted overhead, gradually spreading to every corner of the air.

The circle was swaying, and in the center, Calgio could perceive it unusually clearly, he looked up at himself, and heard a dull rumbling thunder amid the screams of the think tanks.

He soon realized that it wasn't thunder.

He drew his gun and rolled over the other side at the same time. The ceiling collapsed, steel and rubble crashed to the ground, and a massive, strong, and savage being came into the eyes of everyone present.

The mere appearance of it made their eyes feel a burning pain. It stood on its staggered side, easily reaching the ceiling without standing upright, its hideous horns steaming, and a long, scarlet tongue protruding between its fangs and teeth.

It even speaks.

"Yago Sevitarion," it called with a sinister grin. "Keep fighting, and you'll have a good dessert before he shows up."

(End of chapter)